“Oh, Jane, just see how much Sally looks like her partner!”

“Yes,” put in Janet Clarke, “they even have the same pose.”

“Cousins,” said Jane simply, as she and Nettie swung out into the repeated waltz.

The resemblance was very remarkable and standing with the tall boy in his “Tux” the girl in her butterfly gown made quite a charming little picture.  Their isolation at the moment, standing well out on the floor almost alone at the end of the “first half,” gave them somewhat undue prominence, but it also gave everyone a splendid opportunity of seeing Ted and of admiring Sally’s evening frock.

When the number ended a group of freshmen cornered themselves in a window arch and promptly set about whispering some plans.  Nellie Saunders was leading, and she declared Sally was the one to make the presentation.  Presently a committee of seniors joined them, and the purpose of the secret session became evident.

Miss Rutledge, dean of Wellington and beloved mother of the entire flock, was to be presented with a glorious bouquet of golden chrysanthemums and Sally Howland, the pet freshman, had been voted by her class the one to do the public honors.

“Where is she?” asked Anne Morley, the senior, waiting to complete the details.

“Just finished dancing,” volunteered Nellie.  “I’ll go get her.”

“When the orchestra plays ‘Wellington,’ that’s your cue,” said Miss Morley.  “The senior class president will make her speech and you freshmen then send up the flowers.  Be sure you do it promptly, as the speech has the flowers planted in it,” finished the tall, capable senior, leaving the younger girls to carry out her orders.

Nellie was back with Sally immediately.

“Here she is, and doesn’t her gown go wonderfully with the golden ball chrysanthemums?” panted Nellie.

“Just like a picture,” exclaimed Dolly Lloyd.  “Be sure you carry them like a bride’s-maid, Sally.  Maybe a long time before you get another chance.”

“But what is this all about?” gasped Sally, a little bit frightened at the importance of the great sheaf of yellow blooms propped up in the corner.

“You are to present the flowers to Deanie,” said Nellie.  “You see, the girls always give her something at this dance, and they choose the freshies just to act in the capacity of page.  You don’t have to say a word,” as Sally showed reticence.  “A senior makes a speech and you just walk up prettily with this corn shock.”

“Oh, girls, I couldn’t,” exclaimed Sally tragically.

“You couldn’t!  Why not?” came a chorus.

“Because—­oh, I can’t just explain, but won’t you please excuse me?”

“No, indeed we will not,” declared Nellie.  “Just another touch of that timidity we fought out when you first came.  This is an honor, Sally, and we know whom to choose for it.  We know how you stand in the half year’s record,” and she proceeded to straighten out the maline butterfly on Sally’s shoulders—­no one could seem to resist that temptation.